


Bird Bones

by Corvin



Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: F/M, Fem!John - Freeform, Secret Agent, Semi-crossover with James Bond, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 23:51:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3466673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvin/pseuds/Corvin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agent John Blake spent the better part of her career hunting him. In the end, it was some newbie who got lucky that caught him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bird Bones

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BubblyGreenBubbles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubblyGreenBubbles/gifts).



> Words cannot describe how much I am trash. Just complete and utter trash. No beta, not much knowledge on MI6 and uh, yeah, basically I should warn any readers about my general awfulness when it comes to writing.

Their first encounter had been in Venice, Italy. It had been a moderately hot day, where crowds came out in droves, sweating a bit but still more than happy to take in the sights. John’s head itched under the heat of her shoulder length wig and sunhat. She refrained from scratching though; she’d spotted her target a couple blocks back and didn’t want to be distracted for a second.  

 

He was easy to keep in her sight; six and a half feet tall, impressively muscled, and in a white linen shirt that fluttered open in the breeze and was too thin to hide the tattoos on his shoulders and arms. He was eye-catching, even as he melted through the crowd like a silent giant.

 

John trusted her sunglasses to cover her stare, but something didn’t seem quite right. Bane led her down past the boats, only pausing once to look down at a small, cheap looking burner. John sped up when Bane turned onto one of the bridges over the Canal Grande. 

 

She'd only been a fresh recruit when the file came through MI6. It had been handed off quickly to the "hot headed rookie" to keep her busy while the men took care of real work. John was bitter as Hell over it, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to get the job done. She’d catch their guy, a simple drug dealer, and rub Foley’s big, fact nose in her success.

 

Bane paused halfway over the bridge and then he leaned against the railing, looking over the water. John frowned, and quickly whipped out her phone.

 

There were plenty of people milling around on the bridge, she wouldn’t look out of place if she stopped to take a couple selfies. John stopped at the center of the bridge and held her phone out in front of her. She angled it up for the generic pose, before a large presence forced her against the stone railing.

 

John’s fake smile dropped, but before she could retaliate Bane’s, and it was definitely Bane, massive hands closed around her wrists and forced her hands down.

 

“Good afternoon,” He whispered in her ear once she was completely restrained. “I’m assuming you’re law enforcement rather than from any rivals.”

 

John stared down at their hands, taking deep breaths to calm herself. He was an idiot if he wanted to try anything in public, and if he tried to move her—Well, she’d jumped off higher things than this bridge. 

 

Bane curled around her, creating the illusion of a cuddly couple. “How long have you been after me?”

 

“I don’t,” Bane squeezed her wrists so hard John dropped her phone.

 

“The truth, _mi pajarita._ ”

 

John bit her lip, and not at the way his heavy Caribbean accent purred out the Spanish. “You pinged on our radar about eight months ago. There a reason that matters?”

 

“Nothing for you to concern yourself with.” She doubted that. Bane held her wrists with one hand and pulled up the front of her skirt.

 

John stiffened, but he didn’t go where she’d expected. Bane reached between her legs and removed the Derringer from the thigh holster she’d borrowed from Q.

 

“Your gait is too bowed, and your shoulders are too stiff.” Bane tossed the gun through the railing and into the water. “Your agency will have to send better.”

 

Then he disappeared into the crowds before John could call for backup.

 

-

 

A year later found John in Norway, in Sagene outside of Oslo.

 

Her higher ups had been very upset with her for losing Bane in Venice, John’s rookie status put in jeopardy for screwing up after almost a year of spending company money on a wild goose chase. (At least that was how Foley put it when recommending a suspension—John never was able to figure out why he chose to single her out. Gordon said she was imagining it, Moneypenny said it was he because Foley was a ‘sexist prick.’)

 

John had been working tirelessly trying to find more leads. Unfortunately, the downside to looking for someone with few connections and little in the way of an established reputation was like looking for a needle in a haystack the size of the entire world.

 

She’d only caught this one thanks to a contact of Bruce’s who’d overheard a conversation in a pub on the outskirts of Dublin. It was weak and more than likely to be a dead end, but John was taking every chance she could get.

 

It was just her luck that her visit fell on the last few snowy days of the season. John dug her gloved hands into her warm coat jacket and delicately picked her way through the quiet streets, hoping that her boots would magically and suddenly be waterproof.

 

It was mostly quiet thanks to the early hour; her contact had insisted they meet before the general populace; something about not wanting to be outed as a rat.

 

John rolled her eyes and bit her lip against her slight shivers. Even for a spy, that was a little dramatic. What was crumb of information from a nobody in an Oslo borough? 

 

She sensed a presence and managed to dodge the first grab, but before John could react beyond that, something hard and blunt cracked against her skull.

 

 

In the future, John would find out that her ‘lead’ would inform her that Bane was hiding out in Cuba. She would immediately break his nose and then bring him in for some hands on interrogation. John would know he was lying, because when she came to in a freezing cold warehouse that was stacked wall to wall with crates, she’d also see Bane.

 

John wrinkled her nose at her hypothetical inner monologue, she must have been hit harder than she thought. “You know,” she slurred around her concussion. “Most men have the decency to just ask for my number.”

 

Bane towered over her, even taller since she was tied to a chair. He raised an eyebrow, looking like the perfect Bond villain in his double breasted coat with his scarred, but handsome face. “I’d wager most men aren’t a snide remark away from putting a bullet in you.”

 

She smirked to hide her unease and cast a glance around the warehouse. “Nice place you go here. Though I generally prefer a sofa at least somewhere in the mix.”

 

“I haven’t gagged you out of politeness, Agent. Don’t tempt me now.” He reached down and cupped her chin with deceptive gentleness. “I would be remiss to lose my view.”

 

John blinked up at him, thinking over her next reply carefully. Out in the open, with a few avenues of escape readily available, his proximity had been threatening enough. But John wasn’t in the mood for flirting and _touching_ in that exact moment. She gulped, ready to remand answers when one of the large doors slid open.

 

“What,”

 

“If you’ll excuse me, that would be my appointment.” Bane pressed a thumb to her lips and John snarled and nipped at it.

 

Bane smirked, “Until we meet again, Agent.”

 

He wasn’t kidding about gagging her. John’s muffled growls and yells went unheeded, as she was forced to sit helpless while men came and took away every single crate.

 

-

 

John was called back for extra training once Bane completely dropped off the map. MI6 intel needed some cleaning up, and no one wanted John out ‘gallivanting around.’ Because that’s what she loved, flying around at the expense of literally every other aspect of her life.

 

But there had been no reasoning with the higher ups. Not after they found out the contents of the crates in Norway contained everything from narcotics to firearms. John didn’t even know how to argue her case. It hadn’t been her fault, but then, it hadn’t really been anyone’s. Bane was just…smarter than they anticipated. Too smart to be caught through conventional means, and even if their best men had been on the job it would have likely ended the same.  

 

Well, more or less the same. John still didn’t know why Bane chose not to kill her.

 

After several hearings about her innocence and competency, John was out of the field, getting extra training from Bruce Wayne (otherwise known as 007) for the next year and a half. It was nerve wracking at first, Bruce was nothing like she’d expected.

 

She’d never actually worked with him, but she’d heard of his reputation. Meeting him in person he was reserved, but warm, and more than willing to teach her everything he knew while she was under his wing. It was a refreshing change of pace from the instructors who’d looked down on her all her life.

 

John and Bruce worked well together. So much so, that John’s first active mission would have been with him, just a small assassination plot that needed to be foiled, but then Bane’s file got a hit. A massive hit.

 

Her man had gone from blip in the system to leader of a massive intercontinental drug cartel.

 

John said goodbye to her almost partner, and caught the red eye out to Morocco.

 

 

Souiria Beach was mysteriously empty at eleven o’clock in the morning.

 

Bane was sitting by himself in a white, wooden beach chair under a large umbrella, and with a book in his lap. John eyed the empty chair beside him as she approached.

 

Unlike in Italy, her steps were more sure, her Derringer 38 hidden in the folds of her short, black Kaftan. She knew Bane recognized her, but she slid into the chair regardless, crossing her bare legs comfortably. Back up, because the geniuses upstairs finally had the good sense to send back up, was waiting streetside, so she had all the time in the world.

 

“You’ve grown your hair out.”

 

They still hadn’t found an origin country for ‘Bane’ but John placed his accent as Caribbean. She smiled benignly, “Thanks for noticing.”

 

“I assume you’re here to make an arrest.” Bane turned the page of his book. “Armed?”

 

“Of course,” John turned onto her side and faced him. “Does this mean you’re coming quietly?”

 

“Robin Joan Blake, codename: Agent John.” Bane recited.

 

John tried to quell her reaction, but her blood went cold. Officially, Robin Blake didn’t exist anymore; the only access to her old name would be compromised security at MI6.

 

Bane smirked, reaching across the small divide between their chairs. He brushed her slightly too long bangs out of her face. “It means, _mi pajarito_ , that you are still very much an amateur.”

 

“Experienced enough to track you down.” John grabbed his wrist, which did little, but she appreciated that he stilled in deference. “Thanks for Oslo by the way.”

 

“Would you feel better if I said that it was a surprise for me as well?”

 

“I’d feel like you were lying.”

 

Bane jerked his hand away, standing in a smooth motion to loom like he liked to do so well. John pulled up her kafka and aimed at his head. “I’m having a weird day, maybe don’t test me.”

 

“Adorable,” Bane kicked the chair just enough to jolt John’s aim. He knelt between her legs as he twisted the gun out of her hand. “However, I stand by me previous assessment.”

 

John pushed on his chest, but he was like a brick wall. She could get some leverage with her legs though; she’d already bit down on the tracker in her molar to send out a distress signal.

 

Bane dropped the gun in the sand. “Amateur.”

 

Her only saving grace later, when she woke up on the beach alone, was that her backup had been taken out before they got to her.

 

-

 

They only met once more; for a very brief couple of seconds, stateside in Gotham.

 

Rebuilding her reputation had been arduous work with several partners, and even more villains who fancied themselves the next ruler of whatever country or what have you. It was exhausting, and quickly grew repetitive, but in the end, it was worth it.  

 

Four years into her career John had gone to Gotham to reconnoiter with 007 and his partner, Nightwing. But the city was in chaos, because approximately six hours before she made it to the city, Bane and Bruce had a violent confrontation.

 

Nightwing met her on the outskirts of the city, where the river channeled into the ocean. He filled her in on the details of Gotham’s fall, as he led her to a high tech cave where Bruce was in hiding, his back had been broken.

 

John took to the streets in a whirlwind of righteous fury. Bane wasn’t hard to fine, but he had a small army at that point. John took out half of them before they took her down.

 

She’d been brought to Bane at the top of Wayne Tower.

 

“I’m busy,” Bane directed to the man holding her.

 

“What should we do with her?”

 

John was shivering in her torn, bloodstained clothes, but she felt warm when Bane grabbed her face. She expected something smug and gloating, but was surprised yet again.

 

Bane bit her lip in a violent mockery of a kiss and smirked at her gasp. “Try not to let my little bird kill you.”

 

He released her and left her to his minions. John didn’t kill the man holding her, but she did give him a good maiming before she escaped.

 

Someone else took Bane down. John didn’t even catch the name, because she was called back to MI6 for a verbal reaming from Foley and Gordon for…

 

John wasn’t sure what it was for. She’d done her best, and while their best agent hadn’t been able to do any fieldwork for a very long time, at least he hadn’t died.

 

Then Gordon took a look at her lightly bruised bottom lip and took her off fieldwork indefinitely.

 

-

 

Almost five years of her fucking life spent chasing a ghost all over the world; how many nights had she gone without sleep? How many meals had she skipped? How many people who'd been so dear to her once had drifted away because of her single minded focus?

 

Agent John Blake's black heels, reserved only for when she was confined to desk work, which had been the entirety of the past year, clicked with echoing finality as she carried several folders down the long hall.

 

She'd only been a fresh recruit when the file came through MI6. It had been handed off quickly to the "hot headed rookie" to keep her busy while the men took care of work. No one expected Bane to become the massive threat that topped their Most Wanted list. If Gordon hadn't vouched for her, John knew they would have taken her off the case and given it to someone more experienced.

 

John had wanted nothing more than to catch the bastard, make Gordon proud for believing in her. But she never could.

 

Sure she had close calls here and there. Bane was a singularly massive asshole when it came to his "Little Bird." Sometimes she wondered if he hadn’t let her find him those times. Not that it mattered anymore.

 

She’d wasted a good portion of her career, pouring over files, intelligence reports, following even the most obscure leads, and it had been all for nothing.

 

A newbie, Jason Todd, had been in Santa Prisca for some routine training in their harsh terrain, and had unwittingly stumbled upon an assassination plot.

 

John put her fucking life into catching Bane, and Jason Todd foiled an assassination attempt on Santa Prisca’s president because he happened to be in the right place at the right time. It was a fucking disgrace.

 

The files in her hand started to bend. John took a slow, deep breath, pausing momentarily outside of the large, steel door in front of her. She couldn’t afford longer though, this wasn’t her case, she wasn’t supposed to be there.

 

John went through the door, her back straight and her head held high.

 

Inside was a single room, and in the center was a tall cell made of a cylinder of bullet proof glass. Bane sat in a single chair, practically staring through her.

 

He was dressed in a simple black Henley and charcoal pants, his expression was calm and looked out of place on his warlike features. John didn’t like it, not that it was her call anymore.

 

“You look pretty relaxed for someone who just lost his empire.” John approached the cell, very aware of the way his gaze roved over her.

 

“Empires rise and fall, Agent Blake.” Bane stood and moved before her. It struck John, like it always had before, but so much more this time, how he towered over her. “May I say, you look ravishing.”

 

“You may not.” John deadpanned, she wore pencil skirts and sensible blouses because it was work appropriate. “But if you’re feeling agreeable, I have some questions.”

 

She shook the files. They contained the profiles on a few different people, one was a report on a coup in Tajikistan, and finally a death report on Edmund Dorrance, a war criminal who’d been hiding in Switzerland.

 

They were just a couple cold cases that MI6 had sent to the backburner, but if John could crack at least half of them, it might be enough to get her back into fieldwork. She ignored the slight emptiness at the thought that she wouldn’t be hunting Bane after this.

 

She was too much of an adult to really think of him as her nemesis; but Bane was kind of her nemesis.

 

Bane tilted his head, eyeing the files only briefly. “It was my understanding that you have no jurisdiction on my case, Agent Blake.”

 

John stiffened and bit out, “I follow the orders I’m given.”

 

“I’m sure,” Bane smirked. “Then you do have jurisdiction?”

 

“No,” John admitted, slowly lowering the files. “But that’s not specifically your business.”

 

Bane didn’t look impressed. John cleared her throat, “If you’d rather stay quiet, I can just wait until some of the other agents are done with you. Well, maybe not completely done, I am going to need you to be able to talk.”

 

“You think pain is a threat to me?” Bane snorted mockingly, “I’ve lived my life in pain, Agent. Your colleagues will get nothing from me.”

 

“Pretty confident.”

 

“Very.” His gaze began to heat. “What would your superiors do, I wonder, if they lost me yet again.”

 

“We’ve got a pretty good amount of information on you now, Bane. You can’t ever disappear like you did before.” John stepped up to the glass, toe to toe with him, and without that one barrier they’d be sharing air. “You lost.”

 

“And it’s torture for you isn’t it?”

 

John scowled, Bane continued. “It kills you that you were not the one to beat me.”

 

She wanted to deny it, but Bane spoke with such surety as he pinned her with his stormy eye contact. It was killing her. He was hers to catch, but no one would acknowledge it. John rolled her shoulders back, ignoring how Bane’s eyes drifted down to her chest. “You’re still beaten.”

 

“But not for long,” Bane growled. “I look forward to being chased by you once more.”

 

“Don’t hold your breath,” John snapped.

 

“I don’t have to. Although, I may simply steal you away when I leave.” Bane pursed his lips, looking pleased at the thought. “I’ve never been a very patient man.”

 

John’s watch beeped before she responded. Her time was up, Agents Todd and Brown would be coming soon.

 

“Stay classy, Bane.” She saluted sarcastically and grit her teeth when he returned the gesture.

 

-

 

In retrospect John should have taken the threat more seriously.

 

She woke up later that night, having passed out on the couch in the small flat she rented on the edge of London. For a few, bleary seconds she figured she must have awoken because of a noise outside. She sat up, only to have a large hand clamp down on her shoulder.

 

John tensed, and had her gun pulled in an instant, but Bane was even faster. He twisted her favorite berretta out of her hand and hauled her over the couch, slamming her against the fall wall.

 

“Good evening, Agent Blake.” Bane was in the same clothes as before, but with a long coat over them. He looked no worse for wear, and John didn’t doubt he’d killed (incapacitated?) Todd and Brown the moment they opened his cell.

 

John gulped, “Are you here to kill me?”

 

“Certainly not,” Bane pulled her tight against him, but kept her pinned above her head. “You and I had a date.”

 

“I’m a killer and a spy,” John didn’t struggle—mostly because it would be useless, only a little because she didn’t want to. “I don’t know why you think this’ll work out for you.”

 

Bane smiled, “You’ll adapt and learn to love what I’m offering, _mi pajarito_.”  


“Pretty confident,” John scoffed.

 

Bane kissed the side of her mouth, gently licking where he’d bit so long ago. John sighed, letting her eyes drift shut as he took the opening and ravaged her mouth.

 

John tried to move her hands, but Bane kept her firmly restrained, even as he pulled away and rested her forehead against hers.

 

He grinned, “ _Very._ ”


End file.
